


Stuck

by orphan_account



Series: MolMorMor [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, MorMorMol - Freeform, Multi, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2676602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MorMorMol. Toby is stuck in a tree. Seb has to get him and Jim is not helpful. Fall. Laugh. Grass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck

“Seb?”

Sebastian looked up from where he was lounging on the sofa, considering the sheepish looking woman in the doorway. “Yes?” Molly could be more dangerous than Jim when she wanted something, and Sebastian knew he had to be wary if he didn’t want to get drawn into something.

“Toby’s stuck in a tree in the garden.”

“And?”

“Can you get him?” Molly asked hopefully.

Sebastian heaved a sigh, pushing himself up from the sofa. “Your fleabag is more trouble than he’s worth,” he grumbled. Molly’s smile was worth the effort, though, he thought. Not that he would tell her as such.

Toby was not just in the tree, Sebastian discovered. He was right at the very top of the tree, hanging on for dear life and yowling. “You mean to tell me the cat that regularly throws itself out of our upstairs window to land on me when I’m at the front door can’t get down from there?” Sebastian asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve been calling him for ages. We even offered him tuna.” The look Molly gave him was pitiful, and Sebastian knew full well that it was entirely put on. She had learned far too much from Jim. Not that it changed the fact that Sebastian tended to give in to them both, most of the time. “Do you need a ladder?”

Sebastian did not dignify the question with an answer. Instead he pulled off his hoodie, momentarily mourned the fact that a perfectly good piece of clothing was going to be torn up, then shredded by cat claws, before getting to work. He tore from the bottom to a few inches up, tying the two pieces together to make a sling of sorts, one the cat could not fall out of the bottom of. He tied it around his waist, out of the way, before starting to make his way up the trunk.

It was an easy enough tree to climb. Plenty of holds and footrests. Why the damn cat couldn’t get down was beyond Sebastian. He would have booted it out long since, were it not for how much Molly seemed to love it. Even Jim seemed surprisingly fond. Sebastian prefered dogs, himself. Far more loyal and useful than cats, in his view.

“Careful Sebby,” Jim’s voice singsonged from the ground. He resisted the urge to throw a carefully chosen curse back towards Jim, instead keeping his focus on his climb. He had learned long ago that giving Jim the attention he wanted rarely ended well.

He reached Toby fairly quickly, balancing himself carefully on the largest branch that he could find that would still allow him to reach the cat. He leant against the trunk, untying the hoodie from around his waist and instead tying the arms around his neck. He ignored Toby’s attempts to scratch him, carefully catching the cat by the scruff of the neck and lowering him into the makeshift pouch.

He was halfway down the tree, with Toby being surprisingly cooperative, when the cat decided to scramble out of the sling. He launched clambered over Sebastian’s arms, hissing as he went, and leapt down straight to Molly.

Sebastian swore, loudly, and tumbled as he lost his grip and his balance. He landed, hard, on his arse, swearing again as he jarred his back. He was going to have a bruised coccyx, most likely some back and shoulder pain for the next day or so. Sprawled out on his back on the grass he ignored Jim’s gleeful chuckle, sitting up carefully.

“Are you okay?” Molly’s concern, at least, was honest. She was crouched at his side in a moment, hovering.

“I’m fine,” he told her. “Got your fleabag?”

“He’s back inside,” Molly confirmed. “Thank you.”

“Yeah well, won’t happen again,” Sebastian told her. “He can find his own way down next time.”

“You’ve got scratches,” Molly pointed out quietly. Sebastian shook his head.

“I’ve had worse.” He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the protest of his back as he did so. “Now if you don’t mind, I would rather like to go back to lying on the sofa and doing nothing.”


End file.
